


The Glory Days (And the Moments In Between)

by laekanik



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laekanik/pseuds/laekanik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara Oswald gallivanting through time and space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving Towards Them

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the Christmas special.  
> I wrote this before series 9 (which is why he's still got his screwdriver) and right after watching Sherlock Holmes so I had the soundtrack and the dynamic in my head as I pieced this together. The Doctor is a lot like Sherlock though as far as brilliancy and social incompetency.  
> Enjoy.

The Doctor opened his eyes, being met with the dank and unwelcome sight of a prison cell not unlike the one he had occupied in Robin Hood's time. Except this one was much smaller. The floor was hard, cold and slightly moist under him, and the air thick and cool around him. Not the most unpleasant situation that he'd awoken to but not a walk in the park either.

He felt a warm pressure on his shoulder shift and turned to see the top of a head of brown hair. Clara. She was in the cell next to him but had leaned through the bars and rested her head on his shoulder somewhere during the night. Such a human, always searching for some sort of physical comfort in an uncomfortable situation. A situation that he was going to release them from very soon.

He reached through the bars with his hand and poked her in the forehead. She jerked her head up, blinking blearily before frowning.

"Oh," she groaned in disappointment when her eyes were also met with the sight of the jail. "We're still here." She turned to him. "And you said that you were going to get us out of here before I could say 'Santa's pink jim-jams'." She peered through the bars and gave him a leveled stare. "Santa's. Pink. Jim-jams." She emphasized.

He wagged a finger in front of her face. "We're not done here yet." As if on cue, the jingling of keys was heard and a masked guard came to a halt in front of his cell. He unlocked the door and marched in, hauling the Doctor to his feet. Pins and needles seemed to shoot through his legs as he stood up and was forced to wobble after the guard.

"Doctor?" Clara questioned.

He gave her a guilty smile and shrug and then he and the guard disappeared from her view. The dungeon he was leaving seemed ancient, as if it was actually in a castle, but the floors above that were awaiting him seemed quite modern. White ceilings and floors and quite a lot of glass walls and windows. Good to know.

 

They sprinted down the white halls.

"Turning left here!" he warned as he swerved down the new passage.

"Are you sure? All the halls look the same!" came her gasping retort from next to him.

He threw her a glance. He had just heroically found out their captor's plan, stolen the guard's keys and gotten Clara out of jail, all single handedly he might add.

"Are you seriously questioning me right now?" his Scottish accent thickening and dimly pervading the din of gunfire around them.

"I'm questioning a lot of things about you right now--" she retorted, dodging a shot from a laser gun behind her.

"I hate soldiers," he muttered distractedly to himself.

"--namely what you deem to be a 'safe and relaxed holiday'!" She finished, throwing her arms over her face as a potted plant next to her exploded by a pursuer's misfire. "Because I can assure you I am _not_ relaxed!"

"I'll make it up to you," he promised absently as he sprinted down a new hall and checked the settings on his screwdriver.

"You certainly will." But he swore he caught a small grin. The hallway they had run down led to a large room with a wall made entirely of glass.

"Alright!" He shouted, having finished tinkering with the settings and now pointed the screwdriver ahead of them. "Get ready to jump!"

"What?!" Clara cried in disbelief.

"Here we go!" He yelled and pressed a button on the screwdriver. A high-pitched wirring sound emanated from it which in turn caused the glass to shatter in front of them, transforming it from a transparent wall to a mass of white cracks.

"You really might need to start paying me," she muttered to herself and raised her arms protectively as they broke through the weakened window and then were met with the open air around them.

They were falling fast and all of Clara's senses seemed impaired. The rushing wind was deafening and dried her eyes so that seeing was nearly impossible. She felt a hand that could only belong to the Doctor grab her wrist and next thing she knew she glimpsed a flash of blue and then the rushing roaring was gone.

She opened her eyes and registered the dark floor beneath her and the gentle wirring sound around her. She was back in the TARDIS. She turned her head and saw the Doctor lying flat on his back next to her, his eyes wide and glued to the ceiling. He rolled onto his side, propped on his elbow and grinned his manic grin.

"Not bad, that!" he laughed. He jumped to his feet and ran his hands over the console. "Not bad at all. You did well, old girl." He crooned to the TARDIS. She hummed in reply.

"Should I leave you two to be alone or...?" Clara asked crossly, having stood up as well and had taken her put-out stance: arms crossed, head cocked slightly to the side and lips pursed. He turned as if just noticing she were there.

"The TARDIS just saved our lives out there. That was some _amazing_ maneuvering!" He gave the console another firm pat, smiling proudly.

Clara gave a nod. "Right. Okay. Well, thanks for that. Now I'm going to go shower because I don't even want to _know_ what the wind has done to my hair," she said, starting for the door that led out to the hallway of rooms.

"It's really not too bad--" he placated even though it was really quite wild, as was his he was sure.

She spun around. "And I need to wash the dungeon grime off," she said, walking backwards as she flashed him a deliberate false grin before turning around again and starting down the hall.

"...Right," he said guiltily to himself, one hand still resting on the console while the other one scratched through his hair. "Right." He reiterated, spinning around and placing both hands on the console.

"Where do we take her next, old girl? Somewhere quiet...ish. Where we won't have to run from anything...as much." He began typing in coordinates when he heard a shriek coming from down the hall. He jerked his head up. "Clara?" He called uncertainly.

She came sprinting back into the console room, completely drenched and looking very cross indeed, wearing nothing but white towel wrapped around her torso. He stiffened and looked at her from dripping head to toe. "Clara...?" he repeated unsurely drawing her name out as he frowned in confusion. She paid him and his gawping no attention.

"Alright, _thank you!_ " She shouted at the ceiling. Thank you _so much_ for saving us, for saving me. I really, _really_ appreciate it. Happy now?"

She didn't look like she really was grateful, he observed.

"Now can you please get rid of the piranhas in the bathroom and turn the water warm again?" she finished.

The room seemed to glow gently and if the TARDIS had a face, they could've sworn that she was smiling smugly. Having to take this as an answer, Clara turned on her heel and returned to where she had come from.

 

"The purple moons of Nafolex. Incredible diners there. Anything you want to eat-- they've got. And the _view_! Literally trillions--"

"Actually I'd rather that you just took me home," Clara cut in.

He frowned. "Really? Look, I've spoken to her and she won't bother you. She knows that you're cross for sleeping in a dungeon."

"That's not it--"

"Was it because of the jump? I wouldn't have made you do it unless I knew that it was _perfectly_ safe."

"Breaking through a window thousands of feet in the air is safe? Anyway, I'm not cross."

"You're not? You really seem like it. Is it because--"

"I'm not cross!" She shouted. She noted his expression.

"Alright...a little," she amended. "Just...can you take me home?"

 

Clara walked over the browning grass, her heels sinking slightly into the ground. She picked her way around the varying sizes of stone structures until she got to one in particular. The flowers in her hand all of a sudden felt so heavy, yet she couldn't put them down.

"Here lies Daniel Pink" read the gravestone.

She stood there in silence, unwilling to release the flowers and walk away. There were so many things that she wanted to say but they felt like poison in her mouth. Poisonous guilt. She heard the rustle of grass and felt a familiar presence behind her.

"This is why you were upset," came the Doctor's gravelly voice.

She searched her feelings, expecting to feel annoyed by his intrusion but instead she felt nothing. And that was the problem.

"It's been a year," she finally said, not turning.

The Doctor stood behind her small form. He lifted a hand uncertainly and let it hover over her back. He held it like that before bringing his fingers into a fist and then retracting his arm back to his side. It was like he had completely forgotten everything that he knew about humans and social norms and comforting. Clara tended to point him in the right direction and help him with his interactions with others but now he was completely lost.

He didn't know whether or not to touch her or let her grieve on her own. When she was upset, she would usually heavily imply what he needed to do or would do it herself, but now she had completely shut him out. In these five minutes he had no idea what to do.

"You can touch me, you know," she said, shortly after he had dropped his hand. He didn't reply and she finally turned around to face him. Her eyes searched his before she said "Or...perhaps not."

He pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully down at his shoes and shoved his hands into his pockets. He glanced up to scan the surroundings, squinting at the setting sun rather than look back into her searching eyes but finally gave in and met them.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly. "So that you can finish...?" he gestured uselessly at the empty grave.

She glanced over her shoulder and released a heavy sigh. She finally squatted down next to the grave, clearing away any leaves and loose grass and placing the flowers in a vase that she must have left there on a previous visit. She stood up again, taking a deep breath that raised her shoulders and then releasing it so they slumped. She stared at the engraved piece of stone a few moments more before finally turning around to face him.

"I want you to know that I loved him. Don't ever think that I didn't," she said, her voice taking a severely sharp edge to it. He frowned at her, taken aback.

"I know you did," he answered, trying to sound honest but coming across more as complacent. Like he was saying what she wanted to hear so as to calm her down.

"I loved him," she continued vehemently. "I loved him as much as a person like me could."

He regarded her curiously. "Why are you telling me this, Clara?" he inquired softly.

"Because I'm not crying," she said, her eyes wide as they held his gaze. "I've come here every month on the day that he died and I've cried until I couldn't breathe but today...I'm not. I don't feel anything. I don't feel grief."

He considered this. "Do you want to feel that?"

"Yes!" she cried. "It's the least I can do!"

"Clara--"

"I...lied to him!" she breathed out then shook her head slowly, looking at him pleadingly. "You're not supposed to lie to the people you love."

He stared at her unspeaking, his face unreadable until finally he said, "sometimes you have to."

She shook her head again. "Why?" she implored.

"Because we are selfish creatures. Every creature in the universe. We are self-oriented and sometimes we even lie to the ones we love most because it suits us." He glanced down at his boots and scuffed a foot over the grass. "Or them," he finished and met her eyes again briefly.

Her expression changed into something of realization and understanding but she said nothing. That was the way with them anyway and it was good. It was best.

"Do you want to go now?" he asked. She searched his face for a few moments more before nodding. "Yes," she said, and took his offered arm.

As the sun set on the cemetery, it elongated the two shadows of a tall, slender timelord and his five foot one human companion as they made their way out of the past and towards another adventure.

 

 


	2. Dehydrated Seahorses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble can always be found at a party.

"What are your thoughts on seahorses?" came a voice from next to her. She turned and met the stare of a man that they'd met earlier at the beginning of party, General Karosel, "General" being his name, not his title.

He was a tall, well-built man with a dark head of wavy hair and a mustache to match. He regarded Clara with intense, almost black eyes. She supposed him handsome though he wasn't exactly her type. The Doctor had glanced over him dismissively when Clara had first introduced them, clearly not impressed with any aspect of the man.

"'General', how true. He's just like the general human populace--boring," he had announced to her once they were alone at the edge of the party.

"You don't mean that," Clara reminded him, staring distractedly into the crowd of what seemed to be exclusively humans. Nothing odd or out of place at all. Which brought her to the present.

"Seahorses?" she repeated, slightly taken aback by the randomness of the question.

"Seahorses," Karosel affirmed solemnly. She fought the urge to frown. Apparently she did that sometimes to her students when they gave her a particular far-fetched or incorrect answer to a question. According to an anonymous note left on her desk, doing so made them "feel dumb".

"They're um, they're very nice. Beautiful unique little sea creatures." Satisfied by her answer, Karosel continued.

"Did you know that the male seahorses get pregnant? The eggs are deposited into their pouch by their mate and the offspring grow from there?"

"I had heard of that, yeah," Clara replied, grabbing a champagne glass from a passing tray and taking a generous sip. This conversation was one of the most bizarre that she'd ever had. Which was saying something considering that she spent most of her time with imaginative children and the Doctor.

"Then the offspring hatch and are left by the parents," Karosel concluded morosely, staring off into the distance. "Such a sad thing."

"That is sad, yeah," Clara agreed. Perhaps he had a lost a child that he had reared on his own. Or a pet seahorse. Karosel heaved a deep sigh before turning to Clara and giving her a long look.

"It has been electrifying speaking with you," he said, his tone not supporting that statement in the least before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

"Are all humans as bizarre as him?" asked the Doctor from behind her causing her to startle.

He seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and was holding a tray full of finger sandwiches. He selected one and took a bite, staring in the direction that Karosel had left. "I don't remember if they are or not. Typical human behavior has been deleted from my memory," he continued with his mouth full.

"There's a shock," Clara answered without looking at him.

"It's not useful."

"It is!" She looked over her shoulder at him. He had cleared nearly half the sandwich platter already. She snatched one before turning around again.

"You need to learn to be polite. To not offend people," she said measuredly between bites.

He stared down at the back of her head. "Well that's why I've got you," he said a matter-of-factly before handing the now empty platter to a passing guest. He ignored their confused frown as he put on his shades and then shambled into the crowd.

Clara smiled apologetically at the guest, complimenting her on her massive purple hat before following him. She found him behind a pillar, staring at Karosel who was putting large spoonfuls of sugar into a tall glass of water and downing it as if he hadn't drunk in days.

"What do you make of that?" He whispered to her, staring at Karosel as if he'd sprouted antlers and started doing an Irish jig.

"What? Him putting the same amount of sugar into his water as you do your tea? Yes, very odd indeed," she answered sarcastically. "I thought that he was too "general" to be worthy of your time." The Doctor ignored this.

"Something's off," he muttered to himself before moving stealthily behind a collection of enormous potted plants near the seemingly dehydrated man. Clara watched from a distance as he followed Karosel around the party. She caught him somersaulting from behind a pillar to stand next to a particularly large guest and peek suspiciously at Karosel from over their broad shoulder. Rather than allowing herself to be impressed by the Doctor's apparent limber abilities, Clara gave up supervising him and headed over to the refreshments table.

"This isn't about him talking to me, is it?" she asked the Doctor once he'd met up with her again. He looked up from the paper that he had been peeling from off his cupcake. Tossing the pastry aside, he focused on the paper, folding it until it resembled a paper crane. Clara retrieved the discarded cupcake from the table and took a bite, staring up at him expectantly as he placed the crane near a collection of others that he had whipped together.

"No, why would you say that?" he replied hurriedly, not meeting her eyes. She studied him a moment more, debating whether or not she should use the word "jealousy" in her next statement. The statement was put on the back burner however as the Doctor abruptly left the refreshment area and made his way towards the stairs.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Clara followed him. With his long legs he fairly bounded up the steps while she took them one at a time in her heeled boots. She lost sight of him and saw only an empty hallway once she reached the top of the stairs. One wall was lined with doors and where the other wall was supposed to be was a banister that looked down at the party below.

Noticing a door that was ajar, she approached it before opening it all of the way and poking her head in. It appeared to be a spare room of sorts but didn't have much in it. Just a few chairs lining the walls along with some tables and other bits of furniture. The Doctor was on his back under one of the tables, poking the underside while scanning it with his glasses.

"Nothing interesting. Just a few carved initials and hearts," he announced in lieu of greeting her. He rolled out from underneath the table before getting to his feet and resuming his appraisal of other random objects. Clara closed the door behind her and then observed him quietly with her arms folded over her chest.

"You've been acting strangely," she finally announced.

"Oh, good," he said, continuing to poke his nose around the room.

She frowned. "Good?"

With a buzzing chirp he temporarily fixed his sonic lensed gaze on her, swiping a finger over her forehead and examining it as if he had touched a dusty mantelpiece. He peered over the glasses before pushing them back up the bridge of his nose and turning around again, flicking his fingers as if to rid them of her skin cells.

"'Strangely' implies that usually I act normally. I was a bit worried that some of that hallucinogenic jam on the planet of Naar was still affecting me." 

She shook her head empathetically. "No, you...always act strange. I suppose that I should have said 'stranger'."

"I would think so," he replied, now on all fours and staring intently at the carpet fibers. "Being an English teacher and all that."

She observed his odd antics a few moments more, unnoticed by him. It was in times like these that she missed his screwdriver. With his sonic shades it just looked like he was having a staring contest with absolutely everything and everyone that he wanted to scan.

"Care to explain why?" she finally asked, craning her neck to look at his face. He glanced up from the floor, rolling back onto his haunches and giving her a very pointed look from behind his glasses.

"That General Karosel. He worries me." His tone and expression made him seem very much like a principal talking to a parent. _"Little Johnny's grades aren't up to par...fights at recess...worries me..."_

She fought the urge to snort and roll her eyes simultaneously, resulting in a upper facial twitch which the Doctor disregarded or perhaps just didn't see as abnormal. Humans took photos of their faces in strange contortions all the time so that other faces behind screens could view them. Was randomly twitching them much more bizarre than that?

"Oh, come on," Clara insisted. "He's fine! Just a bit odd is all."

The Doctor had begun to mentally drift away to more stimulating things but this got his full attention. Whipping off his sunglasses, he stood up and stared at her with all of the fury and indignation of a ruffled owl.

"Oh, so _he_ can be odd and it's ok but if _I_ act strangely you have to stage an intervention?" he cried, stabbing his hands in the directions of the appropriate subjects of his tirade.

Before she could answer, his attention was diverted by the door handle turning. He looked from it to her, his eyes widening to a size that would give her's a run for their money.

"It's him!" he hissed, sprinting past her (though quick-waddling would be a more apt description) before doubling back to grab her hand with an exasperated "come _on_!"

Clara had no idea how he had come to the conclusion that out of the hundreds of people in the house tonight, Karosel was at the door but reigned in her protests. He led them over to a rather large wardrobe and hopped in, yanking her with him before closing the doors behind them. Besides the small sliver of light coming from between the doors, they were in darkness.

She half expected to find a snowy wood and a faun in the back of the wardrobe but just found a panting timelord with a hand over her mouth. She pried his fingers away from her face but held onto them just in case he decided that her silent breathing wasn't quite silent enough. Startled by a sudden loud cough erupting from outside, she squeezed them and earned a disapproving scowl from the Doctor. He wrenched his fingers from her grasp, massaging them and then pushed her forward so that they were closer to the door and he could peek through the crack.

It turned out that the Doctor's hunch or whatever it was, was correct, it _was_ Karosel. He had locked the door that he entered through behind him and was running his fingers through his hair, much like the doctor would except the doctor never looked this uneasy. Karosel's face was pink and sweaty and he breathed heavily through his nose. Lapsing into another loud coughing fit that made Clara wince and throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the door, he loosened his cravat and coat and even went so far as to undo his belt.

Instantly he expanded, as if his clothes had been a corset holding him in. Everything from his neck down bulged and he staggered around the room a bit, puffing pitifully. Clara swore she thought she saw his stomach move, as if there were snakes under his clothes. She peered up questionably at the doctor who was leaning over her shoulder but his eyes never left Karosel's plump person.

Finally with a resigned look on his face, Karosel sucked in his extended gut and buttoned up his clothes. He still looked thicker than when Clara had first met him but much improved. It was a wonder his clothes hadn't torn. With short, labored breaths, he waddled over to the door, unlocked it with some difficulty and then disappeared down the hall.

The Doctor released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding against Clara's neck. She shivered and felt a twist in her gut and suddenly almost as out of breath as Karosel had been. She blamed this on claustrophobia and pushed open the doors before hopping out. The Doctor followed her, closing the wardrobe and then strode ahead of her, gnawing thoughtfully on his fingertip.

"Did he seem...bigger to you? Like wider?" she finally asked adressing the elephant in the room. Or the elephant that had previously occupied the room and was doing who knows what downstairs. He whirled around and faced her with a serious look.

"Yes he did. So whatever you do, don't kiss him."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

Ignoring her taken aback demeanor he continued. "He's a Knemphek. A bug-like alien lifeform that lives in the head of creatures and pilots them. When the female dies she gives her eggs to her mate and he carries them in his body until they're about to hatch. Then he transfers them through a kiss of sorts to another body to act as a host as they mature."

She took a moment to wrap her head around his brief lecture. "So you're saying that he wants to lay eggs in my mouth?" Karosel's and her conversation of seahorses was now seeming slightly less unfounded.

"Yes. Which will spread and grow inside your body until you look like Karosel. Waddling around like some child that's had too many sweets."

Squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head she held up a finger to pause his ramblings.

"W-w-wait. Why? Why me? There are plenty of people here tonight."

"Well like you humans wouldn't want to mate with an unattractive person, Knempheks don't want to lay their eggs in an unattractive host," he said with a shrug.

"Should I be flattered?"

"You can if you like."

"I think I'm mostly horrified."

"That is a more appropriate response."

She squinted at him. "Should I be worried about you though?"

He frowned. "No. Why?"

She fought a small smile as she looked up at him cheekily.

"Because you just admitted that I'm attractive."

He pointed both his hands at his chest as if she had just accused him of something dreadful, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water. The very definition of flustered.

" _I_ didn't admit that, I just said that he might have thought--making you a possible future host-target-thing," came his eventual babbling reply.

"There are lots of pretty woman tonight," Clara said, swaying from side to side with her hands behind her back as she approached him lazily. "Why not any of them?"

Seeing what she was trying to get him to admit, he scowled and dropped his hands to his sides, looking like a petulant child.

"Because your enormous mouth would fit loads of eggs and they would be able to see out to the galaxy of Fhurg through your massive eyeballs."

"Well now you're just being rude," Clara bit back. "Fine, we can drop the subject."

She turned on her heel and marched towards the door, throwing it open with dramatic flair. He followed her grudgingly and met her in the hall. He peered over the banister at the festivities going on below.

"We need to split up," he decided. She glanced from the display to him.

"You mingle and try to see if there are more Knempheks," he continued. "I'll find Karosel. Have a little chat with them."

She hummed and considered this for a full second before shaking her head. "How about you mingle and I go talk to Karosel?"

"Why you?" he said, convincing himself that he did not sound like he was whining.

"Because," she answered, poking him playfully albeit painfully in the chest. Probably getting back at him for his earlier comment. " _You_ can't flirt. _I_ can."

He stared at her, mouth slightly agape. "Who said anything about flirting?"

"Karosel wants me as his host. So he finds me attractive according to you." He rolled his eyes, begging his blood not to congregate in his cheeks.

"Therefore," she continued. "A little flirting to get some information wouldn't hurt." She flashed him another smile that spoke of nothing good.

Satisfied by his lack of protest she began to back away before spinning around and marching towards the stairs. He watched her retreating form before stabbing a finger in her direction.

"Stay out of trouble and protect your mouth!" he ordered.

She swung around and walked backwards again while giving him a somber salute. He responded with whipping on his shades and giving her a halfhearted peace sign before she disappeared down the stairs.

 

 

Luckily, Karosel had been on his own. His mate had died after planting their offspring in them and he was soon to follow. He had hoped to pass his children to Clara before dying but her discovery of his true identity hindered that. Though the host looked weak, the alien in its head was not.

Lunging forward, Karosel attempting to place an open-mouthed kiss on Clara's lips. Having led him into the library, she spun to the side before he could plant one on her, causing him crash into a bookshelf instead. Pulling a particularly thick volume from behind her, she held it as if it were a lethal weapon.

"I'm not a fan of men trying to back me into things," she declared. "Try that again and you'll regret it."

"Clara," he coughed, wobbling towards her. "Remember the seahorses. I won't leave my children to die. Please."

She continued to walk backwards. "Look, I'm sorry about that, ok? But it's not my problem."

Karosel looked down at his feet and heaved a long, sorrowful sigh which began to sound suspiciously like a death rattle. Clara half expected him to crumple to the ground and breathe his last but he had fooled her again.

Springing towards her, he batted the book from her grip and pushed her to the ground. Her head smacked against the wood floor, making her body feel heavy and stars fill her eyes. Karosel's wide, approaching mouth and the tiny, moving things inside caught her focus however and her body screamed at her to _move_.

Reaching desperately next to her, she felt her fingers brush the spine of the discarded book. Grabbing it by the open cover and pulling it towards her, she bashed it against the side of her attacker's face. He rolled off of her, a few of his offspring falling from his mouth. They looked like minuscule, black preying mantises as they scrabbled frantically on he floor.

Karosel's eyes widened. "My children!" he cried, crawling towards them and pinching them delicately between his thumb and forefinger before shoving them back into his mouth. The look that he now gave Clara was full of fury.

She had gotten to her feet and was backing towards the door. He sprinted towards her and she knew that she wouldn't be able to get out in time. She had to alert the Doctor. Changing her direction, she ran towards one of the tables holding a glass vase full of an array of flowers. Shoving it over, the table and the class making a tremendous clatter against the floor, she headed towards the fireplace on the far side of the room.

Grabbing the poker propped nearby, she leveled it at Karosel's face when he caught up to her. He attempted to grab it from her hands and she brought it across his head. He squealed in pain, dropping to his knees and clutching his skull, giving her an entryway to escape. She darted towards the door once again, only to have it open and have her tumble into the arms of a very surprised-looking timelord.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes wide before closing the door behind him. She stared up at him as if he were mad, chest heaving.

"What are you doing? Don't trap us in here!" she gasped.

"Containing the threat," he answered simply, releasing her and walking towards Karosel. The battered man was attempting to get to his feet, now looking more pink and swollen than ever.

"Please," he panted, regarding the Doctor in desperation.

"They've hatched, haven't they?" he inquired coolly.

Karosel nodded. "They need a live host. Or they'll die. Please," he craned his head to look around the Doctor and at Clara. "Give me her."

"No."

"I am the last of my kind. Just like you, timelord. I have a chance to repopulate. Give me her. I beg you."

Clara wanted to hit him again with the poker. She wasn't one to be given. How dare he.

"No," the Doctor repeated with finality in his voice. "You can't have her."

Karosel's eyes widened in alarm as he felt death begin to take hold of him and then closed them in resignation. Having lost his chance to carry on his species as well as the ability to hold himself upright, he fell over. Coughing weakly and then releasing a wet, drawn out breath, his face slackened as his eyes lost focus until finally he lay still.

The Doctor wiped his glasses on his shirt before placing them over his eyes.

"Is he...?" came Clara from behind him. His glasses chirped as he scanned the body before them.

"Yeah. His children will soon follow. Won't last more than five minutes without him."

Clara wrestled with the events that just took place, and the fire poker in her hand slipped to the ground with a clang.

The blue moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the three humanoid figures. One dead, two alive. Two alien, one human.

Karosel's body and everything inside had disintegrated to dust after about a quarter of an hour. Positioned as he had been in front of the fireplace, it simply looked like a mess had been made and a load of ash has spilled out from the chimney. Clara and the Doctor left it at that in the library and returned to the festivities outside.

They were approached by a few of the guests and were asked about the crashing that had been heard earlier. The pair insisted that they hadn't heard anything and suggested that perhaps everyone had drunk too much tonight or did they believe in ghosts because that's what it probably was anyway. Clara returned back upstairs and stood alone in the hall until she saw the Doctor making his way up the steps.

Once he got to the top, he fixed his eyes on her and strode over to grasp her face.

"Open," he commanded, one hand on her forehead and the other on her chin, trying force her mouth open like a bear trap.

She frowned but complied before slapping his hand off of her forehead. Grasping her chin with surprising gentleness, he maneuvered her face to peer into her mouth from different angles, sonic sunglasses chirping.

"Ah-ehh-hai?" she asked.

"I can't understand you," he replied as if she were an illiterate child. She closed her mouth with an irritated snap. He frowned as if she had personally offended him.

"Satisfied?" She repeated.

"For the time being," he replied, expression still frozen on his face. "But I'd like to be sure." He reached out to grab her jaw again but was stopped by her own hands.

"Doctor," she said pointedly. "I'm fine."

"I want to be positive. Trust me, Clara, you don't want Knemphek babies in you, they're always hungry."

A reaching finger escaped her grip and brushed her face as if by accident. Her hold on him temporarily loosened as something flickered across her face. Releasing one of his hands, she reached up and slid his glasses off his nose and into his hair.

"What's wrong?" she asked, searching his face.

"Nothing," he insisted, another finger seemingly developing a will of its own and brushing across her chin.

"You're acting paranoid."

"According to you I am always that."

"More than usual then."

 _I have the most terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you,_ he thought darkly to himself.

He always had that feeling but in the days of late it seemed to be getting stronger.

Their large eyes remained locked on each other as if they were trying to divine any ulterior motives or double meanings from the other's face or lips.

"Just making sure you're bug-free," he insisted weakly.

"I am."

"Alright then."

They stood a moment more until she realized that her hand was making its way from his glasses perched on top of his head to his cheek. She dropped her hand from his head and released his fingers as if his skin had burned her. They both stared at the floor. He cleared his throat before looking at her again.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, meeting his eyes with a forced smile in place.

  
But they didn't address that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remaining chapters will have one-shots and less in-depth adventures as the story goes on.


	3. Basically, run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I spend my time in order to mend the breaking of my heart over this impending Saturday. I'm just going to forever write about my two loves travelling in a universe where no wrong can befall either of them.
> 
> I listened to Cheating by John Newman (instrumental) while writing this in order to keep me thinking comedic and lighthearted. Enjoy!

Clara glanced casually in the Doctor's direction and then did a double take when she saw his expression. He didn't look as comfortable and pleasant as he had five minutes ago.

"What is it?" She whispered out of the side of her mouth before meeting the slit pupil eyes of their hosts.

They were currently having a tea party with the King and Queen of the planet of Crocodilian Sector X but it was the most uncomfortable one that Clara had ever been to. The royals stared at her unblinking, not touching any of the finger foods or tea that was set out.

She gave a small smile and sipped from her saucer, pinky out. They were in the presence of royalty after all. She eyed one of the small pastel purple, fluffy cakes ahead of her, wondering how these reptiles made them so beautifully, if they ate them at all and if they would find it rude if she reached across the table to grab one.

"They're going to eat us," the Doctor informed her into his sandwich before taking a generous bite.

Clara choked on her tea. "What?" She spluttered.

The Doctor patted her back as she coughed while giving an innocent look to the two reptilian royals. The king licked his lips. The queen licked her eyeball. Both looked unamused.

"They don't know that I know," he muttered through his teeth while handing her a handkerchief. She dabbed her watering eyes before giving it a closer look.

Embroidered in the corner in blue--TARDIS blue--were the words, _while I throw the teapot at them, you run._ She cleared her throat and gave the Doctor a meaningful look as she handing the hanky back to him.

He raised an eyebrow at the words before turning to meet her questioning gaze. "Fancy that," he said, and then hurled the massive, jade teapot at their scaly hosts.

Clara sprung from her chair and sprinted towards the massive double doors at the end of the spacious throne room. She heard enraged hisses and growls behind her and the clattering of chairs and cutlery as the royals crawled over the table in pursuit.

She felt a rush of wind beside her as the Doctor caught up, arms pumping furiously like a track star. He reached into his coat and placed his sonic sunglasses on his nose before seizing her hand and jerking her away from the exit.

The king and queen skidded behind her, nails clinking on the tile floors as momentum slid them towards the doors. They regained their footing, turning then barreled towards the Doctor and Clara who were now heading towards one of the windows that lined the walls.

"You've got to be joking," Clara groaned as the Doctor pressed the side of his glasses.

A high pitched sound that would make any dog's ears ache emanated from them before the window exploded. He gripped her hand tighter and they jumped.

 

 

"So what was that about?" Clara asked, wringing the swamp water out of her hair. The Doctor clucked his tongue in disapproval and placed a bucket under the small waterfall she was conjuring. She was absolutely sopping wet and not comfortable in the least but she had a few questions first.

"Well?"

He had been furiously running his fingers through his damp curls before glancing at her. "Well what?"

She shook her hair out and then rested her hands on her hips as she approached him casually.

"The handkerchief. The words embroidered on them. Is it like the psychic paper but it can sense danger and then give instructions or..." she trailed off once seeing the Doctor's expression of disbelief. "...not," she finished awkwardly.

He looked at her as if he were concerned for her mental well-being before diving into his explanation, obviously trying to appear flippant but clearly very proud of himself.

"Obviously something went wrong while we were visiting the king and queen so I went back and left a message for myself so that we'd get out alive."

"Alive?"

"Or in one piece," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps I lost a leg. Perhaps you lost your nose."

Ignoring her disturbed expression he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Where to next?"

The stricken look on her face was replaced by a smug smile. "Perhaps to the time and place where you learned to cross stitch so beautifully."

She reached up and ruffled her fingers through his dripping curls playfully before marching towards the bathroom.

 

 

"You know...I did the hanging upside down thing. Not a fan," Clara announced as she spun slowly.

"Shush. I'm trying to concentrate," the Doctor bit back over his shoulder.

They spun a full lengthy circle before he started wriggling experimentally but the ropes held fast. Clara's head bounced rhythmically against the Doctor's back and her bindings tightened as he strained against them.

She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten before shouting "Will you STOP that?"

He did, having caused them to now swing back and forth as well as spin in a circle.

"I wouldn't care if you knocked yourself out trying to get free but you are tied to _me_. So you _will_ be rational."

He mumbled to himself that it was no party for him to be tied to her either but she ignored this.

Every time, _every_ time that they went to a planet that was primarily jungles and he swore was uninhabited, they would conveniently bump into alien savages.

Said alien savages had been curious about this pale skinned duo and their strange total of only two arms, legs and eyes but didn't get hostile until the Doctor brought out his yoyo.

"That's what you get for trying to become some race's deity," Clara had scolded as they were tied up and taken away.

As it turned out, this particular race, the yellow, six armed, beaked tribe of Gahesh, had renounced all gods and executed them accordingly. They believed that they had snuffed out the last of them, that is until the Doctor showed up. They had strung the traveling god and his companion upside down by their ankles from a tree and back to back with their arms tied by their sides. Not Clara's favorite situation.

It was when the sun was starting to go down and the shadows of the trees lengthened that the Doctor finally talked. Apparently he had run out of clever things to do, those clever things being:

1\. Struggle against bonds.

2\. Swing.

3\. Struggle some more.

4\. Spin.

5\. Mutter darkly to himself.

"When were you ever tied upside down?" he asked, addressing the hours old subject with surprise in his voice. "Not with me, surely. We almost got buried upside down in the desert once but that was before I convinced them that we breathed through our feet."

Clara smiled despite herself and a chuckle found its way out of her mouth. "Yeah. I'm still surprised that worked."

"I'm very convincing."

"I suppose."

At least to other people he could be. She knew him too well now.

"And clever," he continued.

"On most days," she allowed.

"And incredible."

She craned her head to look at him. "Is this a new favorite pastime of yours? Complimenting yourself until the sun goes down?"

"Not a new one, no," he answered, reaching over to tap her nose.

She rolled her eyes before the realization hit her. She gaped and struggled to look over her shoulder again to see him grinning smugly at her, hands free. Her hopes of getting out of her ropes skyrocketed now, that is, until she heard a growl from below.

She scanned the shadows until she saw what appeared to be a scaly, three-eyed wolf creature step out from behind a tree. It bared its teeth menacingly as it approached them slowly.

With her arms stuck to her sides, Clara reached out blindly with her fingers until they found the cuff of the Doctor's coat and then his hand.

"Do something," she said, eyes never leaving the advancing alien predator. "Do something clever. _Now_."

It was now that the beast decided that it could take this two-headed, swinging piece of dinner without too much trouble and pounced. It rocketed up into the air, teeth snapping but only managed to graze the very tips of Clara's hair.

"Now?!" Clara plead. "Can you do something now? Right now?!"

The beast pounced again, even closer. It landed on the ground again, coughing out Clara's hair. Her scalp hurt terribly now.

The Doctor reached for the rope around their ankles, straining against the weight that was tied to his back and gasping out orders. He managed to grip the rope and tried to pull them to an upright position. Clara was now parallel with the ground and getting an eyeful of the jumping beast. She felt it's hot breath puff against her face as it strained to reach her.

"Use your abs!" Clara cried as the Doctor struggled behind her.

"Haven't got any," he gasped.

"Everyone's got them!"

He shook his head in reply, face red with effort.

"Your last body did."

He strained even harder.

"It's like PE class! Climb the rope!" Clara cheered, desperation creeping into her voice.

"They don't tie teachers to the children's back!" he shot back.

Despite this, he managed to pull the two of them so that they were upright and the wolf couldn't reach them. That is until it began bounding up the trunk of the tree that they were hung from.

"Remind me why you took me to this planet?" Clara cried.

The Doctor's hands burned and his arms shook as he strained to hold them up. He glanced from the creature to Clara before saying "this isn't going to feel great," and releasing his grip.

They fell back and began hurtling towards the ground until the rope met its length, jerking them to a stop. It was like a hangman's noose for ankles, Clara thought distantly, body aching and stinging from her bindings.

The Doctor started wriggling. "Not this again," she groaned. That is, until she felt some of the pressure lessen. The Doctor fell with an ungraceful thump onto the leaves and dirt below.

Clara looked down at him in disbelief. 

"How--?"

He scrambled to his feet and brushed off his coat. "Magician. I would've blown the native's minds," he called up to her, reaching for something in one of his coat pockets.

The beast chose now to dive from the tree and towards Clara. She shrieked but it didn't hold a candle to the sound her attacker made when a hologram of the Doctor's sunken-eyed, screaming ghost appeared in the air in front of it.

It jerked to the side mid-air and landed on the ground, immediately exploding into a sprint and disappearing into the underbrush.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief as the Doctor turned off the hologram and put his shades back into his coat and scrambled up the tree. Arms outstretched, he waddled over the branch as if it were a narrow bridge before he came to the rope.

Straddling the branch he began working on the knot. It was a bit frayed and worn down from all of their swinging and jerking and began to be more so as he picked at it with a pocket knife. He examined it for a second. No, it was Charlotte Bronte's letter opener. He shrugged and continued at his knicking.

When the rope looked like it was about to break, strands popping free from the weight, he got to his feet and began clambering down the tree. "Try jerking around a bit," he called as he climbed. Clara did, the rope groaning before finally making a snapping sound.

Clara whooped in surprise before thinking _I'm going to break my neck_ , as she fell like a cocooned caterpillar towards the forest floor.

Instead of falling in a pile of snapped bones and rope onto an unforgiving ground, she landed in the Doctor's arms. She stared up at him wide-eyed.

"Alright?" he asked.

She didn't know whether to hug him or hit him. Lucky for him she couldn't do either right now.

 

 

They ran rather haphazardly along the shuttle hallways, turning this way and that and ducking into dark rooms which led them to more hallways. Clara hoped that it was just as confusing to their pursuers as it was to her.

The Doctor stopped suddenly causing Clara to crash into him. He moved the both of them against the wall as he peered out into the seemingly empty corridor. He looked back at Clara who now had one hand braced against the wall and another one massaging her ankle.

He looked down at her shoes with distaste. "Why do you even wear those things?"

He foot came down with a resounding clack as she straightened up to look at him.

"I will not go below your shoulder," she declared coldly as if it were his fault she was vertically challenged.

"You'll never measure up," he gloated with a smirk.

She scowled up at him and then made a point to be faster than him for the remainder of the day.

 

After getting home, she kicked off her shoes and replaced them with slippers. Hobbling around the flat and hissing in pain, she decided to collapse on her couch and not move for at least three hours. A nap wouldn't go amiss.

She had just settled into the cushions when a firm knock on the door was heard. Steeling herself for the Doctor, she was instead met with the sight of an athletic-looking blonde lady passing out flyers for a 5k for breast cancer awareness.

The laugh that bubbled up from Clara's throat sounded insane to say the least.

 

 

"Do you think people ever wonder about us?" she asked suddenly, chin cushioned on her fist as she leaned against the railing. He glanced up at her from the stairs, unsure how to answer.

"Like, the strange rocking magician and the attractive, plucky assistant--"

"--We sound like detectives in a kids mystery novel," he said with displeasure.

"--Gallivanting around in their blue box."

He raised his eyebrows, "'their'?" before coming to stand next to her, lacing his fingers and resting his forearms on the railing.

"Who are they?" she concluded with an almost wistful air.

He pulled a contemplative face before turning to her. "Well Clara Oswald? Who are we?"

She looked at him and smiled. "You're my best friend--"

"--And you're mine--"

"--And we save the day."

They locked eyes. They were so much more to one another than just "best friends" and did so much more than simply "save the day" but she had put it concisely and that would have to do for the present.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left the ending in such a way that it could be the conclusion of this unless I get a burst of inspiration. Most of the stuff I'm working on isn't lighthearted enough to be part of this series. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
